Twice Shy Sarah Hogle (online e book reading TXT) 📖

Hoping for the best isn’t necessarily reckless, and nothing—not the good nor the bad—is guaranteed in life.

“Maybell,” he presses. “You have to tell me what that means.”

I step forward, summoning all my courage. My heart is racing a hundred miles an hour.

Wesley just might be the most anxious, most relationship-shy person I’ve ever met, but here he is putting himself out there anyway. Maybe it’s my turn to be brave.

I raise my hands into his hair, watching his pleased surprise register. “I’m not the type of person who takes risks,” I say, letting the silky strands ripple through my fingertips.

His eyes are solemn. “Neither am I.”

“I stayed at a job I hated, that didn’t appreciate me, for too many years because I was scared of giving it up for the unknown. All the men I’ve been involved with in the past were bad for me, and I think a part of me knew that deep down, but I picked them anyway because I knew subconsciously there wouldn’t be a future with any of them. I knew none of them would last very long, and my life wouldn’t be changed. I’d go on being the same, with the same life.” I draw a bracing breath. “The devil you know.”

His hand slides up my arm to cover my wrist, a small, melancholy smile on his lips. “I understand.”

“But I quit my old job, and my life got better. I moved here, and my life got better. Such big changes. I met you.”

His smile widens, just a fraction.

“And my life got better. So what I’m saying is I would very much like to kiss you again, if you wouldn’t mind. I have nowhere to go from here but up.”

He watches me for a moment, calculating whether I’m sure about this, then lets his forehead tilt against mine. “Close your eyes and count to twenty,” he murmurs against my lips.

I don’t even make it to one before his mouth covers mine.

My fingers slip into the diamond cablework of his clothing, pushing through to the soft, worn shirt beneath; he bands his arms around me, hauling me close. I am new to his kisses, his touch, after getting briefly acquainted with them for the first time mere hours ago, and it’s distressing, how badly I’ve already missed it. I think I have been waiting all my life for a man who says I understand and genuinely does. Who is just as unsteady on his feet as I am when it comes to trying something new and scary.

We back out of the elevator still locked in an embrace, me pressing myself as close as I can get. His skin is searing, tongue twisting around mine with fierce enthusiasm. We keep finding ourselves holding our breath for too long and have to break for gulps of air, then dive right back to it.

“You’re so tall,” I grumble, stretching up on tiptoe.

Wesley’s arms clamp around me more securely as he lifts me off the ground, my feet dangling. “Better?”

I give him a peck on the nose. “I could get used to it.”

“I’d imagine so. I don’t know how you go about life, all the way down there. Seems awfully rough.”

“It was.” I wrap my arms around his neck and get to know him some more. “C’mere.”

Now that I’ve given in, I can’t stop. I’m on a steep downhill slide, rolling as fast as I can. Maybe I’ll crash at the bottom, or maybe I’ll never find the bottom at all. Maybe we’ll roll like this forever.

Only one way to find out.

Wesley kisses me all the way into the kitchen so that he can grab another donut, showing me the W he doodled out of batter. It baked up puffy and deformed. “Look, I made you.”

He turns it upside down.

I take a bite. “We forgot to watch the movie.”

“Whoops. Guess this means we’ll have to have a do-over.” He pretends to be sad.

“Nooo, anything but that.”

I grin. Wesley grins back. Tonight is sweeter than frosting on a cupcake and anybody watching us would probably get a secondhand toothache, but I’m not minding one bit. Nothing about life at Falling Stars is turning out the way I expected it to.

Thank goodness for that.

“What are you doing Friday night?” he asks, clasping my hand and twirling me like we’re dancing. “I wanna take you out on a date.”

My heart leaps. “Friday is so far away.”

He’s gratified by my impatience. “Got a busy week ahead. Plus, I have very specific plans for where we should go on our date. I’ll warn you, the location is somewhere difficult to access, so it might take a while to get there. But it’ll be worth the wait, I promise.”

“What sort of plans?” I ask curiously. “Where are we going?”

“Can’t tell you any more than that.” I’m twirled again, which might not be the best idea, given how lightheaded I already am. He’s an ungainly dancer, all thumbs and left feet. “Be ready to go at eight?”

“You can pick me up at my door.”

We bid each other good night, parting ways—he up the grand staircase, and I to my bedroom one floor below his, where I know I’ll be feeling him through the walls all night. To my credit, I wait until I’m safely in my room before I tip back onto the bed and swoon.

•  •  •  •  •  •  •

WESLEY WAS RIGHT ABOUT having a busy week ahead. I don’t know if I’m grateful for how little time I have over the next few days to obsess over our looming date now that I’m a sentient storm in a teapot.

Falling Stars is coming together. It felt at first like a slow transformation, but now the final touches are happening all at once. The dose of reality is all the more overwhelming since I don’t have a team to collaborate with. The hotel is my pride and joy, my responsibility, not Wesley’s or anybody else’s. How did I not appreciate the scope of this massive undertaking? Hotels are